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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345247">blurring the lines between real and the fake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect'>dreamtiwasanarchitect</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a love story for the new age (sugar daddy AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Comeplay, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Enthusiastic Consent, Gags, Graphic Depictions of Whole Foods, I Am Once Again Asking You To Suspend Your Belief Regarding Academia, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Lace Panties, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding, Rimming, Safewords, Spanking, Subspace, Sugar Daddy, Vibrators</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky hasn’t forgotten how it felt when he thought they had an expiration date. He doesn’t want to start taking what he has with Joe for granted, not even now that he knows he never has to give it up.</p><p>Though mornings like these (and nights like last night) are no small part of it, being Joe’s—his boyfriend, his partner, his <i>baby</i>—is about so much more than their physical connection. It’s the way Joe makes Nicky laugh until he snorts, it’s how he made Nicky feel safe enough to open up about his family, it’s his understanding when Nicky’s in his own head and needs space.</p><hr/><p>Joe loves everything about Nicky, really—even the fact that he’s a morning person and he cares about “beating the crowd.” Nicky laughs at all of Joe’s jokes but doesn’t take any of his shit. He obsessively plans perfect meals for their friends and keeps Joe from living off takeout. He charms everyone he meets with his quiet kindness (including Joe’s family), but he only has eyes for Joe. </p><p>All things considered, Nicky has Joe wrapped around his finger, and the fact that he knows it but only exploits it for things like getting a head start on their grocery shopping just makes Joe even more besotted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a love story for the new age (sugar daddy AU) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>473</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. sugar, sugar, how now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is a sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492586/chapters/67224694">bleeding from his brain and his wallet</a>. I would be lying if I told you that fic was super plot-heavy, but you will definitely understand and enjoy this more if you read that one first!  </p><p>This one goes out to all the Discord homies. Thanks for inspiring further perversion.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky’s alarm goes off at eight a.m. For him, it’s not an unreasonable hour—especially not for a Sunday—but Joe is already grumbling into his pillow.</p><p>“Turn it off, turn it off, I need my beauty sleep—”</p><p>Nicky smiles and kisses his face, which is wrinkled from sleep. “We had a deal.” He yanks the covers down and Joe curls in on himself, scowling. </p><p>“Fifteen more minutes,” Joe begs, still refusing to open his eyes. </p><p>“Not if you still want to fuck me,” Nicky murmurs in his ear, nipping at the lobe.</p><p>Joe groans.</p><p>“Come on,” Nicky cajoles. He slides a hand under Joe’s boxers, delighted to find at least one part of him is rousing. </p><p>“You’re spoiled,” Joe says, and finally opens his eyes to glare at Nicky without heat.</p><p>“Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work…daddy.” Nicky fights a smirk as any vestiges of sleepiness vanish from Joe’s eyes. A full year later, that one little word is still his trump card.</p><p>Joe slaps at his ass. “Then what are you waiting for?”</p><p>“Just you,” Nicky says, kicking off his pajama pants and swinging a leg over Joe. “I got myself ready while you slept the morning away.” </p><p>Joe’s mouth drops open. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re so naughty, you know I like to watch.”</p><p>“Mm,” Nicky agrees as he works Joe’s boxers down his thighs. “Maybe you can punish me for it later.” He pulls the lube out from under his pillow and begins to slick up Joe’s cock.  </p><p>“You bet I will,” Joe rasps as he bucks up into Nicky’s hand. “Fuck.”</p><p>They’re on a schedule, so Nicky sinks down on Joe’s cock without preamble. He sighs in pleasure and gives his own cock an idle stroke. </p><p>“Put on a good show and maybe I won’t spank you so hard you can’t sit down tomorrow,” Joe says, resting his hands behind his head. The threat would be more effective if Joe’s voiced wasn’t so strained, but it still makes Nicky’s cock leak.</p><p>He grabs at the headboard and uses it for leverage as he raises completely off Joe before sinking back down. He repeats the motion enough times that his thighs start to burn with the effort and sweat beads on his forehead.</p><p>“Nicky, baby, baby,” Joe chants. His hips lift up to meet Nicky every time he grinds down. </p><p>“Daddy,” Nicky moans, “do you want to know what I thought about while I opened myself?”</p><p>“Tell me, baby.”</p><p>Nicky takes his hand from his cock and starts to rub at one of his nipples. “I was thinking, if these were pierced—” Joe actually <em>gasps</em> “—how fun it would be for you to play with, while I rode you like this. Or while you fucked me from behind, maybe, hm?”</p><p>“Shit,” Joe says. He wraps his hands around Nicky’s hips, his grip hard enough that it will bruise if Nicky’s lucky, and pulls Nicky down on to his cock as he pounds up into him. </p><p>The angle is perfect, and it feels especially good to give himself over to Joe’s momentum after several minutes of doing all the work himself. Nicky brings his hand back to his cock and comes in his hand with just a few strokes. </p><p>“Fuck, already, baby?” Joe asks, nearly breathless.</p><p>Nicky doesn’t respond, but he catches Joe’s gaze and holds it as he raises his hand to his mouth and starts licking it clean.</p><p>Joe’s pupils blow wide and he comes with a low groan. </p><p>As soon as Joe’s finished, Nicky lets himself slump with his face pressed to the crook of Joe’s shoulder. Joe’s arms come up to lock around Nicky’s back, fingers tracing patterns on his skin. </p><p>Nicky always takes a moment after they finish fucking to—well, not really say a prayer, but to be grateful. He hasn’t forgotten how it felt when he thought they had an expiration date. He doesn’t want to start taking what he has with Joe for granted, not even now that he knows he never has to give it up.</p><p>Though mornings like these (and nights like last night) are no small part of it, being Joe’s—his boyfriend, his partner, his <em>baby</em>—is about so much more than their physical connection. It’s the way Joe makes Nicky laugh until he snorts, it’s how he made Nicky feel safe enough to open up about his family, it’s his understanding when Nicky’s in his own head and needs space. </p><p>After the sweat starts to cool on their skin, Joe nudges Nicky off him, and the feeling of Joe’s come leaking from him when he pulls out never fails to send a little spark of possessive pleasure down Nicky’s spine. He knows Joe likes it too, seeing Nicky full and dripping with his spend, but just like Joe can mark him in a way no one else will, Nicky gets a part of Joe that’s his and his alone. </p><p>Joe tangles their legs together and pulls the covers up to their chests, dropping sweet kisses down Nicky’s arm before he rests his head on Nicky’s chest, eyes closed and face peaceful. </p><p>Nicky strokes at Joe’s curls and feels feels himself creeping into a doze when suddenly he realizes his mistake. “No, no, no,” he says loudly and wriggles out of the cuddling position Joe’s tricked him into. “Shower. Clothes. Shopping.”</p><p>“Baby,” Joe tries, eyes still shut, but Nicky is already standing and tugging at his arm. Joe gets out of bed looking like a kicked puppy, but he lets Nicky drag him to the bathroom. </p><p>“This is inhumane,” Joe complains as Nicky turns the tap. </p><p>“We can shower together if you will keep your hands to yourself,” Nicky offers in consolation.</p><p>“No promises,” Joe says, grinning back at him. “<em>That</em> wasn’t part of the deal.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Joe does get a little handsy in the shower, but Nicky will not be swayed from his schedule, so they’re dressed and out the door in almost record time. </p><p>It’s a beautiful, crisp fall morning, and a romp with Nicky is always an excellent way to start the day, so Joe’s not even a little exasperated about the prospect of being the first ones at the grocery store on a Sunday morning. </p><p>Joe takes Nicky’s hand and threads their fingers together. They walk down the street in an easy silence for a bit, until Joe remembers Nicky’s big revelation. </p><p>“Were you serious?” he asks, apropos of nothing, and gets a confused look in return. “About the…piercings?”</p><p>Nicky blushes a little. “I—maybe,” he says. </p><p>Joe bumps his hip against Nicky’s. “Maybe?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Nicky says again, hesitating. “I’m afraid of needles,” he admits. He looks a little embarrassed about it, which Joe will not stand for.</p><p>He squeezes Nicky’s hand. “Ah, I wondered why we hadn’t played doctor yet,” Joe teases and leans to press a kiss to Nicky’s temple. </p><p>Nicky huffs a laugh as they walk into the Whole Foods.</p><p>Joe beelines to the bulk food section while Nicky makes his way through the produce. Nicky is incredibly exacting when it comes to selecting the perfect fruits and veggies, and no amount of eggplant jokes can get him to lighten up, so after Joe gets their almonds and cashews, he waits patiently for Nicky next to the fake meats. </p><p>“How much tofu do you need for the ricotta?” he asks as Nicky joins him. When Quỳnh and Andy became semi-regular dinner guests, Nicky started experimenting with making his own nut and tofu-based cheeses to accommodate Quỳnh’s dairy intolerance, and, much to Joe’s relief, Nicky’s even started to admit he has one himself. </p><p>“Two bricks,” Nicky says, and Joe puts them in the cart. </p><p>They wind their way through the store to pick up oat milk, eggs, and pasta. When they get to the baking aisle, Joe lingers in front of the cookies on one side of the shelves while Nicky throws various flours from the other into their cart. </p><p>Joe holds up a new brand of healthy-branded Oreos. “Hm?”</p><p>Nicky looks over his shoulder and wrinkles his nose. “If you want baked goods, I will make them.” He plucks the box out of Joe’s hands and puts it back. </p><p>“You’re such a food snob,” Joe says affectionately. </p><p>“What do you want?” Nicky asks as he turns back to the baking supplies, surveying the chocolate chips. </p><p>“You, not slaving away in the kitchen.” Joe glances around before giving Nicky’s ass a quick squeeze. “I can think of better things you could be doing.” </p><p>“My love, there is nothing more important to me than keeping you from an early death due to excessive consumption of processed foods.”</p><p>Joe grins. “You’re so romantic, baby.”</p><p>“Is there something I should make, that everyone would like? For Tuesday,” he adds, as if Joe didn’t know what he was talking about. Nicky approaches hosting duties with an intensity on par with a general leading troops in to battle. Joe loves that about him.</p><p>Joe loves everything about Nicky, really—even the fact that he’s a morning person and he cares about “beating the crowd.” Nicky laughs at all of Joe’s jokes but doesn’t take any of his shit. He obsessively plans perfect meals for their friends and keeps Joe from living off takeout. He charms everyone he meets with his quiet kindness (including Joe’s family), but he only has eyes for Joe. </p><p>And that’s not even touching what they get up to in bed. All things considered, Nicky has Joe wrapped around his finger, and the fact that he knows it but only exploits it for things like getting a head start on their grocery shopping just makes Joe even more besotted. </p><p>“Andy will like anything with sugar,” Joe tells him. </p><p>“Cake?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Chocolate? Mm, no—red velvet?”</p><p>“Sounds amazing, love.” </p><p>Nicky flashes him a quick smile and throws more ingredients into the cart. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>On Monday, Nicky meets Nile at the student union, where they grab stale sandwiches and weak coffee from the cafe. </p><p>“So, I’m sorry,” Nile says as they sit down at one of the booths surrounding the pool and foosball tables.</p><p>Nicky inclines his head as he unwraps the cling film from his sandwich. “Sorry?”</p><p>“About the paper.” Nile grimaces. “I know it’s not very good.” </p><p>It wasn’t, but Nicky could tell she was trying, and he didn’t want to discourage her. “Ah, Nile—”</p><p>“I don’t really get van Inwagen,” she admits. “Or his, uh, thing with the story. It just seems like…the Bible.”</p><p>“Yes,” Nicky agrees. “The story is not necessarily so unique. It’s his assertion is that if the story is powerful enough to convince a neutral audience, then the problem of evil is not a problem for theism.”</p><p>“A neutral audience.” Nile frowns as she picks at her sandwich. “I guess I can’t imagine being neutral about it.” </p><p>Nicky smiles. He’s noticed the little gold cross she wears around her neck sometimes, though today it’s either hidden by her hoodie or it’s been left at home. “You don’t need to be neutral to evaluate his argument. Just objective.”</p><p>Chewing a bite of sandwich, Nile nods, considering. </p><p>“Re-read Mackie,” Nicky tells her. “The better you understand his argument, the better you will understand van Inwagen’s defense. And I would be happy to read through a draft of the paper before you turn it in for a grade.”</p><p>“Okay,” Nile says, smiling a little. “Thanks, Nicky.” </p><p>Nicky smiles back as he sips his coffee. It’s atrocious—there’s a reason he brings his own from home every morning. “What are you majoring in, Nile?”</p><p>“Biochem, pre-med,” she tells him and takes a long drink of her own coffee, probably desperate for any caffeine she can get in the way most students are. </p><p>“Is this your first year at Queens?” he asks, curious but trying not to pry. Nile seems older than most of the undergrads he teaches.</p><p>“Yeah.” She looks a little self-conscious. “I um, I was a Marine. I enlisted right out of high school. I come from kind of a military family, I guess. But I always planned on going back to school when my contract was up.” </p><p>Nicky tries not to act surprised, but it’s hard to imagine Nile, with her long braids and nose ring, in the military. “It’s my first year here, too,” he tells her. </p><p>“Yeah? You like it?”</p><p>Nicky shrugs. “So far. The course load is heavier than I’d like, but such is the fate of all of us who don’t secure tenure-track positions.” He gives her a wry smile. “And you? How do you like it here?”</p><p>Something sad crosses Nile’s face before she schools her expression into something more appropriate for casual conversation, and Nicky regrets asking.</p><p>“I like the classes,” Nile says, “but it’s kinda rough making friends when you’re like, four years older than everyone and you don’t live in the dorm.”</p><p>“I can imagine that.” He remembers what it was like when he first moved to New York, not even so long ago—Nile was probably still on active duty at the time—and found himself lonelier than he’d ever been, until he met Joe. </p><p>“Well,” Nicky says. “My office is a shoebox, but its door is always open.” </p><p>Nile smiles. “Cool.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Joe get home from a meeting at the gallery he’s exhibiting at next month, and the entire house smells like sugar. His mouth waters, a typical Pavlovian response to Nicky’s cooking (and Nicky in general). </p><p>“Nicky, baby, it smells amazing in here,” he calls from the door as he toes off his shoes.</p><p>Nicky doesn’t answer. Joe finds him in the kitchen, frowning as he cradles a mixing bowl.</p><p>“It’s not right,” he says, tasting thick white frosting straight from the rubber spatula. </p><p>“Oh, is this the cake? It smells great.”</p><p>Nicky shakes his head and holds out the spatula. Joe leans forward and licks at the frosting. “It tastes right to me,” he says. </p><p>Nicky sighs. “Perhaps.”</p><p>“It would taste better if I was licking it off you,” Joe teases.</p><p>Nicky looks thoughtful for a second before he sets down the bowl. He braces his hands on the counter and lifts himself to sit on a patch that’s clear of cooking utensils.</p><p>“I have some time before the cake comes out,” he says, his lips lifted in a little smirk. </p><p>Joe grins and steps between Nicky’s legs. He starts working on the buttons of Nicky’s shirt, and the decidedly un-flashy blue button-down reminds him that Nicky taught today. </p><p>“How was your day?” Joe asks.</p><p>“Class was fine. I had a nice meeting with a student.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Joe pushes the shirt away from Nicky’s chest. </p><p>“Mm. She was worried about her paper.”</p><p>“Should she have been?”</p><p>Nicky hesitates, which means yes.</p><p>Joe laughs. “Well, at least it wasn’t a flimsy excuse to come on to you.”</p><p>Nicky shakes his head earnestly. “She’s very bright. Philosophy just isn’t her subject of choice.”</p><p>“Then it’s a good thing she has a very kind and sexy professor.” Joe scrapes the spatula into the mixing bowl. </p><p>“Yes,” Nicky says drily, “I have heard that increases a student’s chances of academic success.” He jumps in surprise when Joe smears the frosting on his chest, taking care to cover both of Nicky’s nipples before he leans forward to mouth at them. </p><p>Nicky’s hands tangle in his curls. “Fuck, Joe.”</p><p>Joe dips his fingers in the bowl and brings them up to Nicky’s lips. Nicky licks at them greedily. The feel of Nicky’s tongue, paired with the sight of the white cream smeared on his lips, goes straight to Joe’s cock. </p><p>He works open Nicky’s jeans and dips a hand into his underwear. Nicky flexes one of his socked feet and rubs it against Joe’s crotch. </p><p>Then the oven dings, and Nicky hops off the counter and re-zips his pants. He wraps a hand around each of Joe’s biceps. “Mm. Sorry, love,” Nicky says, giving Joe a quick peck on the lips before gently steering him out of the way. He takes the cakes out of the oven without bothering to re-button his shirt. </p><p>Joe leans against the counter and watches Nicky as he starts to mix a new batch of frosting, brow creased in concentration. Love must numb the pain of blue balls, he thinks. </p><p>It’s hard to believe they’ve been together for a year, because the time has passed so quickly, but it also feels like he’s known Nicky forever. Or maybe it’s just that he’s ready to know Nicky for the <em>rest</em> of ever. They haven’t talked about it, but Joe thinks about it at least once a day—what it would be like to upgrade from boyfriend to husband, what it would be like to feel a ring on Nicky’s finger when he takes his hand. </p><p>He’s about ready to find out. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. see what you’ve done to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All right all right time to earn some of those tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joe manages to carry both his and Quỳnh’s lattes to their table without ruining the lovely foam art. </p><p>“I might have switched them up,” he warns as he sets what he thinks is the almond milk latte in front of Quỳnh.</p><p>“That’s fine, I don’t mind oat,” she tells him, taking a sip. “I think you got it right, though. Good job.”</p><p>“Hey, thanks,” he says with a grin. He settles back in his chair and blows on his own steaming latte. </p><p>“So...Joe?”</p><p>“Yes, Quỳnh?”</p><p>“You remember I’m actually coming to your house tonight, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Joe says, setting his mug down. “But I’ve asked you here on top-secret business.”</p><p>Quỳnh raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”</p><p>“Yes. I wondered if I could convince you to go shopping with me.”</p><p>“The answer is generally yes,” Quỳnh says, though she looks a little suspicious. “But it depends on what you’re looking for.”</p><p>“Jewelry,” Joe tells her, heart beating a little faster than normal as he fights a blush. “Ah, specifically, a ring.”</p><p>“A—Joe!” Quỳnh grins and brings her hands to her face. “You’re—you’re proposing?” </p><p>Joe nods, grinning back.</p><p>“Oh my God—well, first, congratulations.”</p><p>“I think you say that after I’m actually engaged.”</p><p>“Oh, Joe.” Quỳnh rolls her eyes. “As though Nicky would ever turn you down.”</p><p>Joe wishes he was that confident. He knows Nicky loves him, but they haven’t really discussed marriage—and Nicky is certainly not a traditionalist. “We’ve only been together a year,” Joe reminds Quỳnh.</p><p>She frowns a little. “Hm. I guess sometimes it seems like longer, the way you two act.” She smirks. “You’re like an old married couple already. It’s disgusting.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m not judging your polycule,” Joe teases.</p><p>“Oh, shut up, I do not have a <em>polycule</em>.”</p><p>“Not for lack of trying…”</p><p>Quỳnh rolls her eyes again. “How did you and Nicky even meet? I’m not sure I ever got the story.”</p><p>Joe panics. “Um.” He takes a drink to buy himself another few seconds as he makes a game-time decision. “We, ah, met in a bar.” It’s the same story they gave Joe’s family, after mutually deciding that Ibrahim and Fatine al-Kaysani were not prepared to know that their son had been willing to pay another man to live in his house and have sex with him. </p><p>Stupidly, they hadn’t discussed what they would tell their friends. Joe’s not bothered by their backstory, but he knows Nicky worries. </p><p>(“Sex work is real work,” Joe said as they debated what to tell his family. “And I’m not even sure being a sugar baby counts, anyway.”</p><p>“It’s not—I am not ashamed of that,” Nicky told him. “But. Would your family believe that I love you, if they knew? Or would they—would they think I was just…using you?” </p><p>“That doesn’t matter,” Joe insisted. “I know you love me.”</p><p>Nicky was quiet for a moment, jaw clenched with tenseness. “I want them to like me,” he said finally, and his voice sounded so small that Joe didn’t want to argue the point anymore. </p><p>“Okay,” Joe said as he kissed Nicky’s hand. “Whatever you want, love.”)</p><p>Quýnh purses her lips. “Since when do you go to bars?”</p><p>“Since I wanted to pick up an Italian man with the ass of an angel,” Joe says.</p><p>Across from him, Quỳnh laughs. “You’re so gross.” </p><p>“So?” Joe prompts. “Ring shopping, you in?”</p><p>“I’m in,” she says. “When?”</p><p>“Well. I was sort of thinking…now.”</p><p>Her eyebrows shoot up as she takes another drink. “Damn, Joe. When—oh my God. You are <em>not</em> proposing tonight.”</p><p>“No!” Joe scowls, insulted. “This is the first time we’ve invited Booker over, how rude would that be?"</p><p>“What, so you’d do it if it were just me and Andy?”</p><p>“No, because you’re evil bitches who would kill any romance I tried to inject into the moment.”</p><p>Quỳnh looks smug. “That’s fair. But still, you’re going to do it soon?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Joe says. “I think so.”</p><p>He hasn’t quite worked out how he wants to do it. Nicky would hate a public proposal, and he’s not fond of the idea himself, but the thought of just popping the question while they’re watching TV physically pains him. He’s exhibited at some beautiful galleries, and he’s sure he could twist some arms, but that might mean more to him than it would to Nicky.</p><p>Ring first, he thinks, and the rest of the proposal will reveal itself to him in good time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Five minutes into Nicky’s office hours, he gets a call from Joe.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hey, baby,” Joe says, and Nicky can tell he’s walking.</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“Headed home from the coffeeshop.”</p><p>“And are you just calling to say you love me?”</p><p>Joe laughs a little. “No, but I should be.”</p><p>Nicky smiles. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”</p><p>“Well. I just—I wanted to give you a heads up, I was having coffee with Quỳnh, actually, and…she asked how we met.”</p><p>Something twists in Nicky’s gut. “What did you tell her?” he asks. He’s not sure what answer he’s hoping for.</p><p>“I, ah, I told her what we told my family. That we met in a bar.” Joe pauses, giving Nicky a chance to respond, but he’s still processing. “Nicky, is that okay?”</p><p>Yes, no, Nicky isn’t sure. He hates hiding the truth of how they became “Joe and Nicky,” but he knows how Joe’s family and friends would look at him if they knew the truth. </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says, voice worried. “I just didn’t know what you’d want, but you know that I’m—I’m not ashamed, I don’t care, we can tell Quỳnh and Andy the truth tonight if you want—”</p><p>Nicky winces. “No,” he manages. “You did the right thing. It’s—it’s better. To keep the truth for us.” </p><p>“You’re <em>sure</em>?”</p><p>“I am sure.” Nicky forces himself to take a deep breath. “I love you,” he says. </p><p>“I love you, too, baby. Promise it’s all right? We can talk about it when you get home, too—”</p><p>“Joe, my heart. I am fine. I promise you.”</p><p>“Okay,” Joe says. “Okay. I’ll let you go, then, I know you have a lot of papers to grade.” </p><p>“An infinite amount, it seems.” </p><p>Joe laughs, and just the sound of it lightens Nicky’s mood. “Okay. Love you, see you later.”</p><p>“Love you, too,” Nicky says, and hangs up.  </p><p>He rubs a hand over his face and glances at his email, hoping to distract himself from the way keeping this secret from their friends gnaws at him. </p><p>His personal Gmail has a new email from someone at Loyola University in Chicago. Last semester—before he knew he was staying with Joe—he’d been applying for jobs at every accredited four-year institution he could find. Loyola had been a long shot, and he’d never heard back. </p><p>Frowning, he opens the email. It’s from the head of the philosophy department—an invitation to interview for a tenure-track position. </p><p>Nicky reads it three times to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood. It would be an amazing opportunity, if it wasn’t halfway across this very large country. </p><p>Nicky doesn’t have many ties to this city even after four years of graduate school, but Joe is established in New York—he evens own the brownstone they live in. Though Nicky would earn considerably more in this position at Loyola than he does as an adjunct at Queens College, he still wouldn’t come close to scratching what Joe makes each year. And that’s assuming Joe would even want to leave New York, where he’s lived for more than ten years. </p><p>Nicky’s never been to Chicago—he’s not sure he would want to live there, either. </p><p>The answer to this entire problem is, of course, to talk to Joe. The thought of that conversation makes his stomach clench with anxiety. He tries to let it play out in his mind: </p><p>Joe, darling, he would say. I have an exciting new job opportunity. Would you be willing to uproot your entire life? </p><p>And Joe would say, what—of course, baby, whatever you want? Joe has never denied Nicky anything, but Nicky’s never asked for something like this. In certain dark moments, he’s already afraid he takes too much. Asking Joe to leave behind to his life in New York so Nicky can chase a teaching job feels like the height of selfishness.</p><p>A second scenario: Joe laughs in his face for even asking. For forgetting who the one with the money and the power in the relationship is. </p><p>That would never happen, Nicky tells himself, but a traitorous voice in the back of his mind won’t stop reminding him that it <em>could</em>. </p><p>A knock on his cracked door snaps him out of his brooding. </p><p>Nile pops her head in. “Hey, I’ve got a new draft of that paper. Is now an okay time?”</p><p>“Of course,” Nicky says, even though his head is still spinning. “Come in.” </p><p>Nile takes a seat on the other side of Nicky’s desk and pushes her paper toward him. Nicky tries to read, but the words swim out of focus as he keeps running scenarios in his his head. </p><p>“Uh,” Nile says after several minutes pass. “Is—is something wrong? Did it get worse?”</p><p>Nicky looks up at her guiltily. “No, Nile, not at all. I am sorry—I’m a little distracted right now,” he admits.</p><p>“Oh, well.” She laughs a little nervously. “Just glad it’s not my paper.”</p><p>“No, no,” Nicky assures her.</p><p>“Everything okay?”</p><p>Nicky sighs and massages his temple. “I'm not sure I should tell you this, but…I have an opportunity to interview at another institution.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Where?”</p><p>“Loyola University in Chicago”</p><p>“Oh no way!” Nile says excitedly. “That’s where I’m from—Chicago, I mean.”</p><p>Nicky perks up a little. “Do you like it?”</p><p>“Yeah, for sure,” she tells him. “I’d love to move back someday.”</p><p>Nicky nods, considering. Maybe it’s worth talking to Joe about, maybe it’s worth pursuing. </p><p>Or maybe it’s going to ruin everything. </p><p>Nile peers at him. “You look…not super pumped about this.”</p><p>“It’s a little complicated,” Nicky says slowly. “My…partner has a career here. I first applied for this job at Loyola before—before we really got together.” </p><p>“Oh,” Nile says. “Damn.” She fidgets in her seat. “I—I don’t know, I wish I could give you advice, or something, but—”</p><p>Nicky shakes his head. “No, no, I should not have mentioned it. It’s certainly not your problem, and I don’t expect you to have answers. You are here for <em>me</em> to help <em>you</em>.” </p><p>“Yeah, but I could come back tomorrow, or whenever, if you need to just chill and think for awhile.”</p><p>Nicky sighs again. “I may need a little time,” he allows. “I’ll take your paper home, yes, and if you come on Thursday I can give you better notes?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay, that sounds good.” Nile stands up and slings her backpack over her shoulder. She hesitates when she gets to the door. “And, uh—good luck.”</p><p>“With?”</p><p>“Your decision? The interview?” She smiles self-consciously. “All of it, I guess?” </p><p>Even though his stomach is in knots, Nicky smiles back. “Thank you, Nile.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nicky is definitely upset, Joe decides. He’s always a little agitated before guest start arriving, worrying that there won’t be enough food or that someone will have developed a sudden allergy they neglected to tell him about beforehand, but he’s more worked up than usual, and it’s got to be because he’s still thinking about what Joe told Quỳnh. </p><p>“Joe,” Nicky says when he looks up from the oven and sees Joe is still staring, “stop.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Joe apologizes for the fifth time.</p><p>“It would be preferable if you simply stopped doing the thing you’re apologizing for,” Nicky says shortly, and Joe inwardly winces at the sharp annoyance in Nicky’s voice. </p><p>“I know, I’m—I know,” he finishes lamely. He takes a deep breath and pushes away from the counter he’s leaning against. “How can I help?”</p><p>“You can set the table,” Nicky says. He sounds marginally less pissed, so Joe comes up behind him on his way to the cutlery and plants a kiss on the back of his neck. To his delight, Nicky presses back against him. </p><p>“Mm, baby.” Joe kisses the spot behind Nicky’s ear.</p><p>Nicky throws Joe a look over his shoulder. He’s got that dark look in his eyes that means he’s about to do or suggest something mind-blowingly kinky. Joe’s cock twitches in his jeans as he waits for Nicky’s next move.</p><p>“Set the table and take out the lasagna when the timer goes off?” Nicky asks.</p><p>Or maybe Joe’s misread the situation. He nods, trying to to hide his confusion.</p><p>Nicky leaves the kitchen, and Joe lays out five places at the table. He’s just moved the lasagna to the top oven, which is set to warm, when Nicky comes back.</p><p>Joe raises his eyebrows and Nicky wordlessly hands him the remote to their vibrating plug.</p><p>Joe gapes. “Did—did you—” They’ve used it when they were out at dinner, just the two of them, but never around people they <em>knew</em>. </p><p>Nicky nods. He meets Joe’s eyes unabashedly even though his neck is all flushed. </p><p>With a single click, Joe turns the plug to the first setting. Nicky inhales sharply and shifts his weight from foot to foot. </p><p>“Baby, once I turn this up to the third setting, you’re going to be begging me to bend you over the table in front of all our friends,” Joe says as he turns off the vibration.</p><p>Nicky smirks, eyes flashing. “Shall we bet on it?”</p><p>Joe grins back at him. “Okay, sure. I bet you can’t make it through dinner without anyone seeing you squirm. And,” he adds, suddenly inspired, “if I win, I’m going to spank you and edge you and send you to bed hard.” </p><p>Judging by the way Nicky’s mouth drops open, that idea is a hit. </p><p>“And what will you give me if I win?” Nicky asks, cheeks flaming. </p><p>“Mmm, a pony?” Joe laughs as Nicky swats at his chest. “Okay—I’ll make you come as many times as you want tonight.”</p><p>Nicky holds out his hand. “Deal.”</p><p>They shake on it and return to their preparations. Nicky assembles the salad while Joe slices the bread. He’s just opened the wine when the doorbell rings. He opens the door to find a tall man with slouched posture and sandy blond hair on the other side.</p><p>“Hi,” Joe says. “You’re either Booker or a home intruder, and I’m hoping it’s the first thing.”</p><p>“Uh, yeah, the first one,” Booker says, and he holds out his hand. </p><p>“I’m Joe,” Joe says, shaking it. </p><p>“Nice to meet you, heard a lot about you.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Joe asks, intrigued. The idea of Nicky, who’s so private and reserved, albeit in a completely endearing way, talking to his colleagues about his personal life—about Joe—is hard to imagine. </p><p>“Yeah, Nicky said you’re an artist?” Booker looks past Joe’s shoulder to the painting hanging in the foyer, which just so happens to be one of Joe’s. </p><p>“That’s right,” Joe says. “Okay, you pass the test, come on in.”</p><p>He leads Booker to the the small dining area just off the kitchen. Nicky pokes his head out and flashes Booker a quick, warm smile.</p><p>“Hello, Booker,” he says.</p><p>“Hey, Nicky, you guys have a nice place.” </p><p>Joe shoots Nicky a wink. As he pours Booker a glass of wine, the doorbell rings again.</p><p>“Be right back,” Joe says.</p><p>He gives Quỳnh a kiss on the cheek and wraps Andy in a bear hug as they each come through the door, then heads back to the dining room with the two women in tow. </p><p>“Quỳnh, Andy, this is Booker, Nicky’s colleague and friend at Queens. Booker, these are my friends, Quỳnh and Andy.”</p><p>The three of them shake hands. </p><p>“What do you teach, Booker?” Quỳnh asks.</p><p>“English lit,” Booker tells her as Nicky appears with the salad. He set it down and hugs Quỳnh and Andy in turn before he dips back into the kitchen. </p><p>Joe follows him and suddenly remembers their bet—in the general flurry of their friends’ arrival, he’d sort of forgotten. He grabs the lasagna and gives Nicky a sly smile before they rejoin the others. </p><p>“What’d chef Nicky make this time?” Andy asks. </p><p>“Lasagna—with tofu ricotta and almond parmesan,” Nicky adds, addressing Quỳnh. </p><p>“Ooh,” she says as they all begin to sit. “It smells amazing.”</p><p>As soon as Nicky’s ass hits the chair, Joe turns the plug up to the first setting. Nicky stiffens for a moment, nostrils flaring, but it’s so subtle that no one else notices as they pass the food around and tuck into their meals. </p><p>“It tastes pretty good, too,” Andy says around a mouthful of lasagna. </p><p>Booker nods. “Yeah—Nicky, this is amazing.”</p><p>“Mm, yes,” Quỳnh agrees. “Nicky, you could open a restaurant. Think about it. I can run your marketing.”</p><p>Joe can tell Nicky is simultaneously pleased and embarrassed, so after letting the compliments settle for a moment, he interjects. “Hey, don’t forget me. I picked out the wine.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s very good, too, Joe,” Quỳnh tells him, tone dripping with condescension. </p><p>“Thank you, Quỳnh.” </p><p>“How do you three know each other?” Booker asks. </p><p>“Joe and I went to undergrad together,” Quỳnh says as she breaks her bread into bite-sized chunks. “And Joe actually set Andy and I up. They went to the same gym.”</p><p>Joe smirks. “I just knew she was Quỳnh's type.”</p><p>Quýnh frowns at him. “My type?”</p><p>“Yeah, she looked like she could snap me in half, so I knew you’d be into her.” </p><p>Quỳnh fakes irritation while Andy, Booker, and Nicky all laugh.</p><p>“Congratulations, Joe, you’re on my shit list now,” Quỳnh informs him. </p><p>Joe rolls his eyes. “When am I not?” </p><p>“Anyway,” Quỳnh says to Booker. “We’re just glad Joe met Nicky. We hardly saw him before. Reclusive artist type, you know.” She smiles at Nicky, who returns it. </p><p>“Or maybe I was just sick of third-wheeling at dyke bars,” Joe points out.</p><p>“Maybe you were just a sad sack,” Andy counters.</p><p>Joe flips her off. </p><p>“Anyway,” Quỳnh says. “Nicky, have you been watching the new season of Baking Show?”</p><p>As Nicky begins to effuse about bread week, Joe ratchets the plug up to the second setting and bites back a laugh as Nicky stutters mid-sentence. No one says anything about it, but Nicky shoots Joe a dark look when the conversation’s moved on to some true crime show Andy and Booker both like. </p><p>Once everyone’s plate has been scraped clean, Joe clears the table while Nicky brings out dessert. Nicky serves himself last, so everyone else has already started praising the cake before he sits back down. When he goes to take his first bite, Joe raises the plug’s vibrations to the third and highest setting. Nicky jolts so hard that he drops his fork with a clatter. </p><p>“You okay, Nicky?” Andy asks, eyebrows raised.</p><p>Booker leans over to pick up the fork. “Five-second rule?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nicky manages, voice strained. He takes the fork from Booker without glancing in Joe’s direction. </p><p>Joe hides his smile by taking an extra large bite of cake. Bet won, he takes mercy on Nicky and turns the plug back down to its lowest setting, magnanimous in victory. </p><p>After cake, they move on to a second bottle of wine. The conversation flows easily, but Joe starts feeling antsy, preoccupied with the knowledge that the sooner their friends leave, the sooner he can get his hands on Nicky. </p><p>Eventually, Quỳnh says she has an early meeting, so after they all exchange thanks and hugs and promises to do it again soon, everyone leaves. </p><p>Joe shuts the door behind them, and he’s barely turned around when Nicky collides with him. He practically attacks Joe with roaming hands and messy kisses, but Joe’s not complaining. </p><p>“You all worked up, baby?” he pants when they come up for air.</p><p>Nicky nods, eyes wild.</p><p>“Mm. Too bad you’re not coming tonight.” </p><p>Nicky whines. “Joe—”</p><p>“A bet’s a bet,” Joe reminds him. </p><p>Nicky makes a frustrated sound and buries his face in Joe’s neck.</p><p>Joe pats his ass. “I want you over the table. Everything off.” He turns the plug back up to the second setting and gives Nicky a gentle push. As Nicky obeys, Joe heads into their bedroom. It takes him a few minutes to find everything he needs, and when he comes back, Nicky is naked and in position, all of the leftover dishes pushed haphazardly to one side of the table. </p><p>“So good for me, baby,” Joe praises, running a hand over the broad expanse of Nicky’s back. “Turn around.”</p><p>Nicky does, giving Joe a nice view of his hard cock and blown-out pupils. Joe slips the cock ring on Nicky first, then uses a leather strap to secure their bullet vibe to the length of Nicky’s cock. He turns it on and Nicky lets out a broken cry.</p><p>“Joe…” </p><p>“Back over the table,” Joe tells him, and Nicky goes, entire body trembling. </p><p>“We never agreed on a number,” Joe says, squeezing at Nicky’s ass. “What do you think, baby?”</p><p>The room is quiet except for the whirring of the vibe and Nicky’s labored breaths. Then: “However many you think I deserve, daddy.”</p><p>“Fuck.” Joe fists at Nicky’s hair and pulls him in for a filthy kiss. “Baby, baby,” he says when he lets Nicky go, “you deserve a lot, for how crazy you make me.”</p><p>Nicky mewls into his mouth. Joe pushes him down until his chest rests flat on the table.</p><p>“Ten with the plug on this setting, ten with the plug on the next setting,” Joe decides. “Then I’m going to fuck you, just like this.”</p><p>“Yes, please daddy, please, <em>please</em>—”</p><p>“Shh, baby,” Joe says, mostly out of habit, because he actually loves hearing Nicky beg like this. He lands the first spank on Nicky’s right cheek, relishing the way Nicky presses back to chase his hand. He alternates the next three hits, then doubles up for the remaining six.</p><p>Joe turns the plug to its highest setting and gives Nicky another smack. There’s no other word for it—Nicky <em>screams</em>. He’s shaking even harder now, and one of his hands claws at a placemat while the other tugs at his own hair.</p><p>Joe spanks him four more times, then pauses. “That’s five, baby. Still want the others?”</p><p>Nicky nods. </p><p>“Use your words,” Joe urges. </p><p>“Yes daddy,” Nicky says, and it sounds like Joe’s been fucking his face for how raw his voice is. “Please, I want them, please.” </p><p>“Since you asked so nicely.” He gives Nicky his last five spanks and makes them count, hitting Nicky so hard his own hand smarts. </p><p>He turns off the plug and drops kisses down Nicky’s spine, careful not to miss a single vertebrae. Joe works the plug out of Nicky as he lubes up his cock.</p><p>“Fuck, Nicky, you’re so hot. You’re perfect,” Joe groans as he slides into him. </p><p>“Joe,” Nicky says, and he starts to cry. </p><p>It’s not the first time Nicky’s done this, but it’s a rare enough occurrence that it still makes Joe hesitate, even though he’s been excruciatingly hard for this entire time and reducing Nicky to tears satisfies some dark part of his lizard brain in a way nothing else can.</p><p>“Shh, Nicky, baby. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He aims a careful thrust at Nicky’s prostate, and Nicky sobs. </p><p>“Are you feeling good, baby?” </p><p>“Yes, daddy,” Nicky says, voice thick with tears. “Please, please fuck me.” </p><p>And who is Joe to argue with that? Even though he wants to pound Nicky into the table so hard he leaves an imprint—even though he knows that Nicky would probably love it—Nicky feels so breakable when he’s like this, so Joe fucks him as gently as he can manage, and he still comes in hardly any time at all. </p><p>He only takes a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of Nicky, who continues to make noises that are something like a sob crossed with a moan. Joe turns off and removes the bullet vibe, then the cock ring. Nicky is so hard Joe can almost feel it, and he’s tempted to get Nicky off just to see how hard he comes, but he decides to stick to the plan and honor their bet. Nicky is a masochist, after all, and if he really wants to come, well, that’s what his safeword is for. </p><p>Instead, Joe holds Nicky from behind, stroking at his hair as he shakes and cries. When his sobs have tapered off and his tremors have lessened, Joe kisses his temple. “Baby, you’re so good,” he tells him. “I want to give you a bath, okay?”</p><p>Nicky nods. “Okay,” he agrees, and lets Joe half-carry him to the bathroom. He sits on the closed toilet while Joe runs the water and pours in a heap of Nicky’s favorite bath salts. </p><p>Lavender fills the room as Joe helps Nicky into the tub. “How’s the water?” he asks.  </p><p>Nicky’s eyes are shut. “Good,” he says, then blinks sleepily at Joe. “I love you.”</p><p>The trust on his face makes Joe’s chest ache. He cups Nicky’s face. “I love you, too. So much.” He kisses Nicky’s cheek, right under his eye. “That was all good?” </p><p>“Better than.” Nicky is nearly slurring, accent extra-thick. </p><p>He kisses Nicky’s other cheek, then lets him lay back against the tub, content to watch Nicky bask in hazy post-scene satisfaction. </p><p>He’s seen people in subspace before, but he’s never seen anyone in it quite like Nicky. Joe knew Nicky was special the first time he had him over his lap, when Nicky got off just from the spanking, but he could have never predicted this—Nicky sobbing and almost non-verbal, making bets he’s bound to lose just so Joe can bring him to the edge and leave him hanging over it. </p><p>After several minutes of soaking, Nicky’s eyes droop. “I’m falling asleep,” he says.</p><p>Joe smiles. “You are,” he agrees. He stands and extends a hand to pull Nicky up. By the time they get to the bedroom, Nicky’s motor skills seem to be back to normal. He changes into his pajama bottoms and one of Joe’s hoodies. Joe frowns as Nicky makes for the door. </p><p>“Baby, where are you going?”</p><p>Nicky pauses with a hand on the door knob. “All the food is still out.”</p><p>“<em>Nicky</em>,” Joe says, appalled. “Come on, no. I’ll take care of it, you get into bed.” He pulls down the covers and stares at Nicky expectantly. </p><p>For a split second Nicky looks like he might argue, but he must know a losing battle when he sees it—or maybe he’s really that spent. Either way, he comes to bed and lets Joe tuck him in. </p><p>Joe fetches a glass of water and sets it on Nicky’s nightstand. “I’m going to clean, but I want this gone by the time I come back, okay?”</p><p>Nicky’s tired eyes spark with mischief. “Yes, daddy,” he says, then sips at his water. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your comments don't make me feel like <i>less</i> of a perverted porn peddler, but they do help me feel <i>better</i> about it, so do let me know what you think ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. need somebody to hold me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really meant it about the suspension of disbelief re: how jobs in academics work. I did my best, if by "best" you mean "didn't research this at all and just made my best guess."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s Thursday and Nicky still hasn’t responded to the email from Loyola, but he knows the clock  is ticking. At least he’s caught up on student papers, including Nile’s, thanks to the way Joe effectively weaponized his orgasm last night. </p><p>(“Did you get caught up today?” Joe asked when Nicky came home yesterday. </p><p>He shook his head. “I couldn’t focus.” He stepped into Joe’s space. “I need to come, daddy, please.”</p><p>Joe smacked his bruised ass. “After you get your work done.”</p><p>Nicky locked himself in his office for two hours. When he came out, Joe blew him on the couch and fed him reheated lasagna.) </p><p>He’s staring at the Loyola email, tucked away in his “miscellaneous” folder, when a new message comes through. He clicks back into his primary inbox, and when he sees the sender, it’s like cold water’s been poured over head. </p><p>Maybe it’s another Emilio di Genova, he thinks, trying to ignore the wave of panic crashing over him.</p><p>Or maybe his brother’s managed to find him. For what, he has no idea.</p><p>Nicky runs both his hands through his hair. He can’t deal with this right now—so he won’t, he decides. One thing at a time. First, he needs to figure out what to do about Loyola. Then he can deal with Emilio—or just delete his email—when his head’s a little clearer.</p><p>He creates a “miscellaneous 2” folder and moves Emilio’s unread message there. </p><p>Nicky makes another decision: He’s going to pursue the interview, because he’ll regret it if he doesn’t, if he’s left wondering what could have happened. Besides, taking the interview isn’t taking the job. He’ll get back to Loyola tomorrow, and he’ll talk to Joe tonight. They will have a calm, rational, adult conversation, he tells himself, and everything will be okay, because they are in love.</p><p>Mind made up, Nicky heads down the hallway to Booker’s office. He raps his knuckles on the door frame and Booker looks up from the papers piled in front of him.</p><p>“Hey Nicky,” Booker says. “How’s it going?”</p><p>As a tenured professor, Booker’s office is nearly twice as large as Nicky’s, but it’s a complete mess—anyone who comes to call has to pick their way around random stacks of books, though Nicky does wonder if that’s a defensive maneuver on Booker’s part, since interacting with students (and most of the other faculty) seems to be his least-favorite part of the job. </p><p>Nicky can barely stand to look at his desk, which is is absolutely littered with granola bar wrappers and mugs growing mold, but he forces himself to sit down across from Booker without making a face. </p><p>“Good, and you?” he asks.</p><p>“Up to my ass in bad literary comparisons, but otherwise all right.”</p><p>Nicky’s lips curl in sympathy. “I know the feeling.”</p><p>Booker raises his cup in salute. Nicky thinks he gets a whiff of bourbon, but chooses not to comment on it.</p><p>“I actually hoped to ask you a favor,” he says.</p><p>“Sure thing. After the lasagna, I owe you.”</p><p>“I’ve been asked to interview at Loyola University.”</p><p>Booker is not an expressive man, but he does blink a little in surprise. “Congratulations, Nicky, that’s a great school. Tenure-track?”</p><p>Nicky nods and Booker whistles appreciatively. “Very nice,” he says.</p><p> “Would you be willing to write me a reference letter?” </p><p>“Yeah, you got it.” </p><p>“Thank you, Booker.”</p><p>“So, you guys might be moving, then?”</p><p>Nicky shrugs, trying to act as though the pending conversation with Joe doesn’t have his stomach in knots. “We might, if I get the job.” </p><p>“Well. I’ll miss you at this dump, but it’s a great opportunity, so—I get it. I’ll try to get the letter to you Monday, that okay?”</p><p>Nicky nods. “That will work. Thank you again, Booker.” </p><p>Back in his office, Nicky composes and sends his reply to the Loyola department head. Overcoming the paralysis of the past two days is certainly a step in the right direction, but he knows he’s going to be useless for the rest of the afternoon, so he packs up. He’s cutting his office hours a little short, but since the odds of a student dropping by at four-thirty on a Thursday are slim, he doesn’t feel too badly. </p><p>As he ascends the subway station stairs, Nicky’s phone pings with a text from Joe: <em>Hey baby. Lets go out tonight? Left you a surprise on the bed. </em></p><p>Curiosity sufficiently piqued, Nicky leaves his shoes at the door and heads straight for the bedroom. There’s a gift bag on the bed, and it contains an entire outfit—a crisp white button-down, a navy-blue tie, and a casual suit in a rust-red color, something he’d never choose for himself, but is more than happy to wear for Joe.</p><p>There’s another scrap of fabric at the bottom of the bag. Nicky pulls out a pair of lacy underwear in the exact color of the tie. Though being Joe’s lover has made him nearly shameless, he still feels his cheeks heat as he thinks about wearing these underneath his new suit. He’s never seen the appeal in something like this before, but now, the idea of having a little secret only he and Joe know about—he understands.</p><p>Nicky strips down and hops in the shower. He considers touching himself, but he knows the evening will be even better if he goes into it a little extra on-edge. He can almost hear Joe’s voice in his ear: Classic masochist.</p><p>Once he’s clean and toweled off, Nicky puts on the panties, examining his reflection in the mirror. He feels as ridiculous as he does sexy, but he tries to see himself through Joe’s eyes. </p><p>It doesn’t work, exactly, but it does spark an idea. Nicky arranges himself on the bed, grabbing his phone as he goes. After several minutes of searching for a decent angle, he captures a shot that includes everything from his nipples to his mid-thighs. The dark fabric of the underwear contrasts sharply with his skin, and the outline of his cock is obvious through the flimsy material. </p><p>Before he can overthink it, he sends it to Joe without comment and resumes getting dressed, already thrumming with anticipation.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s a good thing Joe doesn’t look at his phone until he’s leaving the gallery, because he nearly swallows his own tongue when he sees Nicky’s text. The composition of the photo is endearingly awkward, but that doesn’t make its subject any less hot. Joe’s an idiot for not giving Nicky panties sooner. </p><p><em>Looks beautiful baby</em>, he texts back. <em>Home in 20. </em></p><p>He finds Nicky seated carefully on the edge of the couch, fully dressed in his new suit. He smiles up at Joe and pauses the episode of The Good Place he’s been rewatching. </p><p>“Fuck, Nicky, you look so good,” Joe says as he smooths a hand over Nicky’s broad shoulder. “You like it?</p><p>Nicky leans up for a quick kiss. “Yes,” he says after their lips brush. He fixes Joe with a meaningful gaze. “All of it.”</p><p>Joe grins. </p><p>“What’s the occasion?” Nicky asks.</p><p>“Just wanted to take you out and show you off,” Joe says, trying to affect casualness. “Give me ten minutes to change.” He kisses Nicky’s cheek before heading to the bedroom. </p><p>Joe changes into a suit, too, then grabs the little box he has stashed in his nightstand underneath the dildo and hemp rope. He sneaks a glance up to make sure the coast is clear before he pops open the lid.</p><p>The ring is twenty-four karat gold with a band of glittering, lab-crafted diamonds running around the center. Quỳnh had assured him it was “just flashy enough.” </p><p>He hadn’t been completely sold on doing this tonight, but as the ring glints in the light, Joe’s increasingly desperate to see it shining from Nicky’s finger. </p><p>His heart beat beats erratically and he tells himself to relax. So what if Nicky turns him down? Nicky loves him, and it doesn’t <em>really</em> matter to Joe if he doesn’t want to get married, not as long as they’re together. Nicky might still want the ring, and even if he doesn’t, Joe can return it. He tells himself it’s not a big deal until he almost believes it. </p><p>When he comes out of the bedroom, Nicky eyes him appreciatively. “You clean up well,” he says, a little smile playing around his lip. </p><p>“Thank you, baby.” Joe holds out his arm. “You ready?” </p><p>Nicky takes it. “Yes, though I’ve no idea where we are going,” he points out as Joe steers him out the door and locks up behind them.</p><p>“Just out to eat. But our ride’s here,” Joe says, nodding over his shoulder at the Uber that’s pulled up. </p><p>It’s almost a thirty-minute drive to the restaurant, and Joe very nobly resists making out with Nicky in the backseat like a teenager the entire way. When the car rolls to a stop, Nicky peers over Joe’s shoulder to see where they are.</p><p>He looks back at Joe. “You managed to get a reservation here? How long have you been planning this?”</p><p>Only two days, but Joe called in a lot of favors. He just winks and holds the car door open for Nicky.</p><p>Once they’re seated, Joe starts feeling strangely nervous again, which seems premature, as he’s not about to get down on one knee in a full restaurant. He must be doing a poor job of hiding it, too, because after he orders the wine, Nicky leans forward, looking concerned. </p><p>“Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, I—this show, working with the gallery coordinator is kind of a pain in the ass,” Joe lies. The coordinator is actually lovely, and hopefully she’ll forgive Joe using her as a cover for his pre-proposal jitters if she ever finds out. </p><p>“But the preparations are going well, otherwise?”</p><p>Joe nods and starts rambling on about the show, and somewhere along the way he stops feeling so tense. He asks Nicky about that day’s class, and before long he’s being treated to Nicky’s entire lecture on scientific realism. Though Joe understands almost none of it, watching Nicky gesticulate so wildly he nearly knocks over his own wine glass is prime entertainment.</p><p>Their food comes, so Joe doesn’t find out how Hacking fails to address empirical adequacy, but seeing as he doesn’t even know what that means, he doesn’t mind. </p><p>Nicky looks up after his first bite of scallops. </p><p>“Good?” Joe asks, cutting into his own meal.</p><p>Nicky nods. “They are excellent. Thank you for taking me out. This is lovely.” </p><p>Joe smiles. “You’ve been cooking for us a lot lately. Our friends, too. I thought you could do with a night out of the kitchen.”</p><p>Nicky smiles back, but it’s fleeting as a serious look comes over his face. “There—there is something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, and a thousand grim scenarios run through Joe’s mind, each one escalating until Joe is convinced Nicky’s going to tell him that he has terminal cancer. </p><p>“Okay,” he says, trying to sound like he’s not about to have a panic attack. </p><p>Nicky runs a hand through his hair. “Last winter, before we—before we talked—” Nicky pauses to make sure Joe gets the euphemism, and Joe nods “—I applied for jobs without regard to where they were.”</p><p>Joe nods again, heart knocking against his ribs.</p><p>“One of universities I applied to during that time reached out to me on Monday. They want me to interview for a tenured position.” </p><p>“Well, that—that’s good news, right?” Joe asks. It certainly sounds better than Nicky’s current adjunct position at Queens College, but he still looks like he’s about to deliver some terrible news. </p><p>“Yes,” Nicky says slowly. “But the position is at Loyola University. In Chicago.” He sips at his wine. </p><p>“That’s a great school,” Joe says, racking his brain in search of the problem. </p><p>“In <em>Chicago</em>,” Nicky repeats meaningfully.  </p><p>Joe still doesn’t understand, but then he wonders if there’s a hint here he isn’t taking. A terrible possibility Joe hadn’t even considered: Nicky is going to dump him on the night he planned to propose. “Nicky, are you—are you breaking up with me?”</p><p>Nicky’s jaw drops. “<em>No</em>—no, Joe, what—why would you think that?” he demands.</p><p>Joe lets out a shaky breath. “I—you just keep saying it’s in Chicago like it’s, I don’t know, the third circle of hell, so I thought maybe you were trying to tell me that you wanted to break up and move away—” </p><p>“No,” Nicky says firmly. “I thought the problem would be obvious, Joe.”</p><p>“Well. I’m not the one with a PhD,” Joe tells him. </p><p>Nicky frowns at his self-deprecation. “We live here, in New York.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we’re not legally obligated to.” </p><p>“But your house, your work—”</p><p>“They do have art in Chicago, you know,” he grins. “And houses too, at least, I’m pretty sure.”</p><p>“Stop,” Nicky says, still looking upset, and Joe stares at him, more confused than ever.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Joe says finally.</p><p>Nicky leans forward, face serious. “It’s not a little thing, moving across the country. And you—you give me so much already, Joe.” He sounds almost pained. </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says patiently. “This is a great opportunity for you. I’m established. I can work anywhere, certainly in Chicago. And I can still exhibit here. They made planes for a reason.” </p><p>“What about the house?”</p><p>“I’ll sell it and make more than I paid for it. The cost of living in Chicago will be cheaper, anyway.” </p><p>“What about your friends?”</p><p>“Again, planes.” </p><p>Nicky sighs. “Joe.” </p><p>Joe laughs. “What do you want to hear? ‘No, I won’t move to Chicago and I forbid you from taking this job?’” </p><p>“I don’t have the job,” Nicky says. “Just an interview.”</p><p>Joe takes Nicky’s hands. “Then what’s the problem, baby?”</p><p>“You spoil me, Joe. And I know you like to, but this—you cannot do this just to make me happy.” </p><p>Finally, Joe gets it. </p><p>“Okay,” he says. “You’re right. I think you should interview, and you should dazzle them with your brilliance, and when you get the job, we can actually take some time to make the decision about whether or not to move together.” </p><p>Nicky smiles then, his wide, crooked grin. “Yes. All right.”</p><p>The sight of Nicky’s lit-up face tempts Joe to reconsider his decision about not proposing in public. But while he wants to marry Nicky now more than ever, the proposal will have to wait. Right now, Nicky needs to focus on this interview—because no matter how much he might downplay it, Joe knows this is an opportunity that doesn’t come along every day. Once that’s done, they can talk about what’s next.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re outside waiting for their car when going another second without touching Joe becomes unbearable, so Nicky presses him up against the side of the restaurant and kisses him until an older couple glares at them as they leave.</p><p>Joe glares back, but Nicky doesn’t pay them any mind. </p><p>“I love you,” he tells Joe. </p><p>Joe beams. “Love you, too, baby.” </p><p>Their ride pulls up. In the car, Nicky can’t keep his hand from wandering over Joe’s leg, up his thigh, over the front of his pants. He rubs at Joe’s cock and Joe hisses. His eyes are wide and shining in the dim light of the car, but Joe doesn’t say anything until he thanks the driver as they get out of the car. </p><p>The second they’re through the door, he pushes Nicky against the wall so roughly he gasps. </p><p>“That was fucking naughty,” Joe whispers in his ear.</p><p>“Sorry, daddy,” Nicky says without a hint of contrition.</p><p>“Not yet, you’re not.” </p><p>Joe drags Nicky into the living room. He strips him down to his panties and pushes him to his knees. </p><p>“Hands,” Joe says, holding up Nicky’s tie. </p><p>Nicky brings his wrists together and offers them to Joe. Joe binds them with the tie, then undoes his pants. Nicky can’t help whining as Joe strokes himself without any particular urgency.  </p><p>“Mm, you want this, baby?”</p><p>Nicky nods. His cock is leaking, and he already feels a little light-headed, high on Joe’s easy dominance. </p><p>“Then you’d better beg me for it, hm?”</p><p>“Please, daddy, let me suck you,” he says in a rush.</p><p>Joe teases him first, tracing the head of his cock over Nicky’s lips before he finally lets Nicky take him in his mouth. Nicky moans at the taste. He alternates between messily licking the length of Joe and sucking him with hollowed cheeks, feeling a strange sense of triumph every time he draws a noise from Joe. </p><p>“You look so pretty in your lace panties, baby. Do you like them?” </p><p>Nicky hums in affirmation around Joe’s cock, and Joe buries a hand in his hair. He doesn’t pull Nicky forward or thrust into his mouth, but Nicky takes him deeper and deeper until he gags a little. </p><p>Joe groans. He lets Nicky choke himself a few more times, then steps back. He sits down on the couch, legs splayed open, cock poking out from the slit of his boxers. “Come here, baby.”</p><p>Without thinking twice about it, Nicky pitches forward and starts to crawl.</p><p>“Fuck,” Joe mutters, eyes locked on Nicky. </p><p>Nicky stops between Joe’s legs. He leans forward to take his cock again, but Joe apparently has other plans. He manhandles Nicky to sit on his lap, back to chest, and rubs a hand over Nicky’s cock, which is still (barely) caged by the panties.</p><p>Joe’s other hand wraps around Nicky’s throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but the promise of it is enough to drive Nicky wild.</p><p>“Please, daddy,” he breathes. </p><p>Joe’s fingers tighten and Nicky moans brokenly as he humps into Joe’s hand. Joe is always so careful when they do this, and while the sane and adult part of Nicky appreciates it, the part of him that gets off on the pain is always left a little desperate for <em>more</em>.</p><p>“Are you going to come like this for me, baby?” Joe murmurs in his ear. His voice sends a shiver down Nicky’s spine. “Going to ruin your pretty panties?”</p><p>“Yes,” he says, nodding desperately. “Fuck. Please.” </p><p>Joe tightens his grasp on Nicky’s neck and squeezes for long enough that his vision swims. When Joe lets go, Nicky gasps for breath and comes in the panties.</p><p>As he twitches with aftershocks, Joe sucks a hickey into his neck. He’s grinding up into Nicky’s ass with little rocks of his hips. “Baby, I want to come on your face,” he says.</p><p>Nicky slides off Joe’s lap and turns back to face him on his knees, his still-bound hands held out in front of him as if in supplication. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.</p><p>“Nicky, fuck,” Joe groans. He fists a hand around his own cock and Nicky closes his eyes seconds before he feels the hot splatter of Joe’s come hitting his face. He swallows the bit that landed in his mouth and circles his tongue over his lips, chasing the taste. </p><p>Joe strokes at his hair. “Keep your eyes closed, baby, I’ll be right back.”</p><p>With nowhere to go and nowhere to be, Nicky thinks he would be happy to stay here, like this, for the rest of eternity. He drifts until he hears Joe’s footsteps. A second later a warm, damp cloth rubs gently at his face.</p><p>He blinks his eyes open as Joe undoes the tie. He’s changed into sweats and a ratty t-shirt. He pulls Nicky to his feet and helps him step out of the panties.</p><p>“Are they ruined?” Nicky asks. </p><p>Joe eyes them thoughtfully. “I bet I can save them. There’s nothing a little OxiClean can’t handle.” He wipes at Nicky’s cock and belly, then hands him his own pair of sweats and his favorite hoodie, which happens to be Joe’s. Nicky puts them on as Joe begins collecting Nicky’s discarded clothes from the floor. </p><p>“I think I’ll make some tea—will you have some?” Nicky calls over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. </p><p>“Yes, please,” Joe yells back as he heads down the hall to the laundry room.</p><p>They meet back up at the couch. Joe stretches his legs out to the coffee table as he queues up Netflix. “What do you want to watch?”</p><p>Nicky sips his tea. He still feels a little afloat, and he knows that he’ll fall asleep regardless of what Joe puts on. “You pick,” he says, and tucks himself against Joe’s side. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey you. Yeah you. I wanna know what you thought! Slide on into the comments or scream @ me on Tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. making me so wow, wow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a heads up! The scene in this chapter is a little extra-intense. It's very much keeping with the overall tone of the fic, and if you've enjoyed yourself so far I'm confident you'll continue to, but, that said, feel free to reach out via <a href="https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> if you'd like a more extensive summary.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joe checks the map on his phone for the fifth time in two minutes. Dave with the Kia is crawling through traffic at an excruciatingly slow rate, and normally Joe wouldn’t care, but today Dave has precious cargo.</p><p><em>How did you get the world’s slowest driver???</em> he texts Nicky. Never mind that Joe called the Uber, so technically <em>he</em> got the world’s slowest driver.</p><p><em>Looks like there was an accident a few blocks over</em>, Nicky texts back.</p><p>Joe swears under his breath, aware that he’s being unreasonable. Still, it’s been four days, and they haven’t gone that long without seeing each other since Nicky moved in. </p><p>To distract himself, Joe re-tidies the living room and puts away the few dishes he used while Nicky was in Chicago. He’s considering another espresso when he hears the lock turn in the door.</p><p>He hurries to greet Nicky and catches him in the foyer. Joe barely catches a glimpse of his face before Nicky’s wrapped him in his arms.</p><p>“Joe,” he says, sounding tired.</p><p>Joe hugs him tightly. “I missed you.” He feels ridiculous, but after four days apart, Nicky could announce he’s moving to the North Pole and Joe would follow him.</p><p>“I missed <em>you</em>.” Nicky lets go and steps back. Joe finally gets a look at him. They were in touch while Nicky was away—Nicky gave Joe updates about the people he met with, the city, and the interview itself, but Nicky’s not especially verbose via text message, so Joe only got the basics: the people seemed nice, he liked the city, and the interview went as well as he could have hoped. </p><p>Nicky looks tired, and his jaw is tight. Joe opens his mouth to ask any of the hundred questions on the tip of his tongue—how are you, how do you think it went, how do you feel about the job—but Nicky shakes his head. </p><p>“I—I want to tell you everything,” Nicky says. “But. Later?”</p><p>“Okay,” Joe says. “What do you want to do now? Are you hungry? I could order in some food.”</p><p>Nicky shakes head again. “I will have a shower, I think. And then…”</p><p>Joe waits, but Nicky just stares at him, eyes dark and pleading. </p><p>“Then what, baby?” he prompts.</p><p>Nicky drops his head to Joe’s shoulder. “Then I need you, daddy,” he murmurs into Joe’s neck. </p><p>“Of course, baby.” Joe kisses the crown of his head, and Nicky looks up, relief written on every inch of his face. </p><p>They leave his luggage in the hall to deal with later. While Nicky showers, Joe opens his nightstand, thinking hard. If all Nicky wanted was a quick fuck, he’d say so. If he wanted something specific, he’d ask for it. No, Nicky wants—even needs, maybe—to get out of his own head. He wants Joe to make the call.</p><p>By the time the water shuts off, Joe’s got something in mind. </p><p>Nicky steps into the bedroom, dry and naked. His chest and neck are already a little flushed. </p><p>Joe takes his hand and tugs him on to the bed. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about doing to you, baby?” </p><p>Nicky shakes his head. “No.”</p><p>“Okay.” Joe kisses his lips and guides him to lie down. He gets a pillow under Nicky’s hips, then cuffs his hands to the bed. </p><p>Joe pulls out the next toy and holds it up for Nicky to see. It’s a gag, and from the front it’s just a panel of black leather, but inside there’s a vaguely phallic-shaped piece of rubber. Nicky licks his lips and opens his mouth, head lifted slightly off the pillow.</p><p>“Show me how you’ll safeword,” Joe orders. Even though gagging him is an easy way to get Nicky hot and bothered, Joe likes hearing him too much to do it often. </p><p>Nicky snaps his fingers three times. </p><p>“Good, baby,” Joe says. He slips the gag into Nicky’s mouth and buckles it behind his head, careful not to catch his hair. </p><p>Nicky’s cock is already hard and leaking against his belly, and he makes a small, muffled sound when Joe takes out their silk blindfold. Nicky raises his head again so Joe can tie it around his head. </p><p>Joe surveys his work for a moment, then runs a fingertip over the head of Nicky’s cock, watching as he twitches at the touch. </p><p>“You look so damn hot like this, baby.” Joe bends to kiss his way down Nicky’s belly, following the light trail of hair. He comes within an inch of Nicky’s cock, but never puts his mouth on it. </p><p>“I got you something, while you were gone,” he says between dropping kisses on Nicky’s thighs. “Show me if you want it.” </p><p>Nicky tugs at his cuffs and whines through the gag. He lifts a leg and tries to wrap it around Joe’s waist. Joe laughs and presses a kiss to the inside of Nicky’s knee. He rummages through the drawer again until he finds the nipple clamps he picked up yesterday in a fit of inspiration.</p><p>He pinches and rubs at Nicky’s nipples until they’re hard and pebbled. “I didn’t forget about your little piercing fantasy,” Joe tells him, and attaches one of the clamps. Nicky jerks and keens. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” More nonsense noises from Nicky, which Joe interprets as a yes, though he didn’t really have to ask—he knew Nicky would love the bite of the clamps. He attaches the second and Nicky writhes underneath him. </p><p>Joe lowers himself to mouth at the head of his cock. He teases Nicky with fleeting licks that make his hips thrust forward, searching for more stimulation. </p><p>“You’re being greedy, baby,” Joe says, and slaps Nicky’s cock. Nicky makes a tortured sound from behind the gag as his cock leaks more pre-come. “Pleasure, pain, you can’t get enough, can you?” He’s not sure if Nicky’s trying to form actual words—it all comes out as a garbled moan. </p><p>“Shh,” Joe tells him. “I know what you need.” </p><p>Joe pulls Nicky’s legs up and throws them over his shoulders. He spits on Nicky’s hole, then licks at it until Nicky’s legs shake. He pushes his tongue past the tight ring of muscle, and Nicky grinds back to meet his mouth. Joe’s cock throbs in his boxers as he pictures the beard burn Nicky’s going to have. </p><p>When Joe takes his mouth away, Nicky whines.</p><p>“Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to take care of you,” Joe says. He strokes his right hand down Nicky’s shin while his left feels around for their prostate massager. He manages to lube it up one-handed and presses it into Nicky. </p><p>Joe uses the toy to rub at Nicky’s prostate relentlessly, then lets up on the stimulation when he can tell Nicky’s close to coming. Above him, short, punched-out moans pour from Nicky in an uninterrupted stream. Joe teases Nicky until his hand starts to cramp. He removes the massager and sits back on his heels, taking in Nicky’s full, wrecked appearance.</p><p>“You’re a mess, baby,” he says. </p><p>Nicky’s chest, neck, and face—what Joe can see of it, at least—are blotchy red. His stomach muscles clench convulsively and his fingers curl into fists. Joe flicks at one of the clamps, and Nicky thrashes and moans. </p><p>It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Joe is going to give him the orgasm of his life. </p><p>He sets a hand on either clamp, then positions his mouth over Nicky’s cock. He releases the clamps at the same moment he swallows Nicky down as deep as he can. Nicky shouts, muffled, and comes in Joe’s mouth almost instantly. </p><p>Joe moves back up the bed. He unbuckles the gag and removes it, eyeing the long, showy strands of spit that drag between the insert and Nicky’s lips. He pulls Nicky into a deep kiss and pushes Nicky’s own come back into his slack mouth. </p><p>“Swallow your come, baby,” Joe breathes against Nicky’s lips, and he does, coughing a little.</p><p>“Fucking hot, Nicky,” Joe murmurs. He bends to suck on Nicky’s swollen nipples, and Nicky moans and arches his back, cock twitching like it’s trying to get hard again.</p><p>“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” </p><p>Nicky makes another wordless noise, hips rolling up into the empty air. </p><p>Joe taps at Nicky’s lips. “Tell me, baby. If you want it, you have to ask for it.”</p><p>Nicky just whines and tries to suck Joe’s fingers into his mouth. </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says, and reaches behind Nicky’s head to untie the blindfold. It falls away, and Nicky blinks up at him with glossy eyes. </p><p>“Hey, Nicky, baby.” Joe cups his face. “How are you feeling, hm?”</p><p>Nicky whines again and nuzzles his cheek against Joe’s hand, eyes unfocused, and Joe starts to panic. He’s seen Nicky near-incoherent, even delighted in it, but he’s never seen him like this. Had he pushed too far? Had Nicky been moaning and writhing in distress, too out of it to remember how to safeword? </p><p>Joe uncuffs Nicky’s wrists as quickly as he can manage, and Nicky grabs at his hands. “What is it, baby?” he asks, desperate to snap Nicky out of this stupor. Nicky makes another low moaning noise, but he still doesn’t speak. </p><p>“Baklava,” Joe says firmly. “Hey, Nicky, baklava.” </p><p>Nicky blinks, some sort of recognition sparking in his eyes as his brow creases.</p><p>“Nicky, the scene’s over, okay? You understand? Nod if you understand.”</p><p>Nicky stares at him for a long, terrifying moment, as if translating Joe’s words, then nods. </p><p>Joe lets out a shaky exhale. “Okay, good, baby, that’s good. Does anything hurt?”</p><p>Another lengthy pause. Finally, Nicky shakes his head.</p><p>“Nicky, please, can you—can you talk to me?” </p><p>Nicky’s jaw works, like he’s trying to form words but can’t remember how, then: “Joe.” His voice is hoarse. He tugs at Joe’s wrists. </p><p>“Nicky, I don’t know—tell me what you need?”</p><p>Nicky swallows twice. “Need you,” he manages, and Joe lets Nicky pull him down. He arranges them so they’re laying side by side and rubs circles into Nicky’s back. Nicky’s eyes start to drift shut.</p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says sharply. “Baby, no, I need you to stay with me, okay?”</p><p>Nicky’s eyes are clearer now, more aware. “I—I’m sorry,” he says, speech slurred.</p><p>“Sorry—Nicky, no, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Joe pushes Nicky’s sweaty hair back from his forehead.</p><p>“You’re upset.”</p><p>“I was worried,” Joe tells him. “You stopped responding to me.” He scratches at Nicky’s scalp, and Nicky leans into the touch.</p><p>“I was floating,” he says simply.</p><p>“You can float, baby, but you need to be able to talk to me.” Joe rubs his thumb over Nicky’s temple. “It was my fault. I should have checked in more.”</p><p>Nicky searches his face. “It does not have to be anyone’s fault. Nothing bad happened.” He lifts a hand to cover the one Joe has resting on the side of his face. </p><p>“It could have, though. Nicky, you would have let me do anything—”</p><p>Nicky’s lips curl. “You think I wouldn’t let you do anything as it is, my love?”</p><p>Joe shakes his head. “This was different, and you know it.”</p><p>“It was,” Nicky allows. “But Joe, I trust you. I trust you more than anyone. I know you would never hurt me—beyond what I want,” he adds with a little smirk before his face turns serious again. “And when you were afraid you might, you put a stop to it. That’s why the safeword is for you too, yes?”</p><p>Joe sighs. “Yes,” he agrees.</p><p>Nicky takes his hand and kisses it, and Joe finally lets himself relax as their legs tangle together.</p><p>“What can I get you?” he asks after a few minutes of quiet. “A snack, a bath? You need some water.”</p><p>“Just water,” Nicky says. “How long do I need to stay awake to convince you I am fine?”</p><p>“At least one episode of Baking Show,” Joe tells him. </p><p>“All right,” Nicky says, sounding resigned. “Let’s go.”</p><p>They curl up on the couch together while Nicky finishes his water. Joe even gets him to nibble on some apple slices, but he’s asleep with his head on Joe’s lap before the technical challenge ends. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Nicky wakes up, light’s already pouring in through the gap in the blackout curtains. He panics for a moment and fumbles for his phone, which tells him that it’s almost nine in the morning—much later than he’d prefer—and that it’s Friday, which means he only has one class—intro to ethics at one in the afternoon. </p><p>He can’t remember the last time he slept in this late. He’s not sure what time he passed out on the couch, and he doesn’t remember stirring when Joe apparently somehow carried him back to bed. </p><p>Joe’s wrapped around him a little tighter than usual this morning. One of his legs is pushed between Nicky’s, and his right arm is locked around Nicky’s waist. Nicky shifts, and Joe lets out a sleepy sigh as he nuzzles his face into the back of Nicky’s neck.</p><p>Nicky thinks back to how concerned Joe was last night. He had felt amazing, his world reduced to Joe and pure sensation and nothing else. It had been perfect until Joe begged him to speak, and he found he couldn’t, though he tried. He remembers Joe’s eyes, wide and afraid, as he tried to pull Nicky out of the haze of the scene, and he can’t fault Joe for worrying—if their positions had been reversed, Nicky would have been terrified, too. </p><p>He extracts himself from Joe’s arms as carefully as he can. Luckily, Joe is a deep sleeper, and though he frowns a little at the disturbance, he rolls over on to his other side and begins to snore lightly. </p><p>Nicky pads into the kitchen and starts the coffee. He surveys the refrigerator, which is just as full as it was when he left for Chicago, though a few containers of Chinese food have materialized, confirming Nicky’s suspicion that Joe survived on takeaway while he was gone. </p><p>Nicky assembles ingredients and gets the waffle maker down from the cupboard. He’s just started mixing the batter when Joe comes shuffling in from the bedroom, presumably lured out by the smell of coffee. </p><p>Joe smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I missed this.”</p><p>“Hot breakfast every morning?” Nicky teases.</p><p>“Hot man in my kitchen every morning,” Joe corrects, then peers at Nicky. “How are you feeling?” </p><p>“Very well,” Nicky tells him. “And you?”</p><p>Joe pours himself a mug of coffee and wraps an arm around Nicky’s waist. “I’m good if you are,” he says. </p><p>“I am. I promise.” He cranes his neck to kiss Joe’s cheek. He pours the batter into the waffle maker while Joe sets out plates, forks, and syrup. </p><p>“There are berries, too,” Nicky tells him. “Unless you ate them all while I was away.”</p><p>Joe shoots him a guilty grin. “I knew I should have hidden the takeout boxes.”</p><p>Nicky laughs as he carries their plates to the kitchen island. </p><p>“So,” Joe says as he drizzles syrup over waffle, “can we talk about Chicago now?” </p><p>Nicky stabs at a blueberry. “There is not much to talk about. I don’t have the job yet, Joe.”</p><p>“You will,” Joe tells him easily.</p><p>“Joe,” Nicky says.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You don’t even know if I bungled the interview.”</p><p>Joe raises his eyebrows. “Did you?” </p><p>“No,” he admits. It had gone as well as it possibly could have. </p><p>“Then you have the job.” </p><p>“I am sure they are speaking with many qualified candidates who also had good interviews.”</p><p>“Nicky, I know you blew them away.” </p><p>Nicky can’t help snorting into his coffee. “And how do you know that?”</p><p>“Because you’re brilliant,” Joe says, tone matter-of-fact. He cuts into this waffle. “Don’t argue,” he warns, pointing at Nicky with his fork. </p><p>Nicky sighs. “Very well, for the purposes of this conversation, we can assume I have the job.” </p><p>“Great,” Joe says. “So do you want to take it? No—wait, better question: Would you take it if we weren’t together?”</p><p>“Joe, that is an impossible question. We are together, and you are the most important thing to me—”</p><p>“Nicky.” Joe smiles, but he’s still looking at Nicky keenly. “You would take it, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Nicky takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he admits. “But that doesn’t mean that is what I should do—”</p><p>Joe shakes his head. “Baby. You’re the most important thing to me, too. And this is an amazing opportunity, and I don’t want you to turn it down. You’re my partner not—not my plaything.” Joe’s eyes shine with sincerity, but he takes another bite of waffle like what he just said hasn’t made Nicky’s throat tight. He looks away and tries to blink the tears from his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, come here.” Joe turns in his barstool so Nicky can sit in his lap. Joe wraps his arms around Nicky’s waist and holds him, head hooked over Nicky’s shoulder. </p><p>Nicky lays his arms over Joe’s, joining their hands together. “I love you,” he says.  </p><p>Joe presses a kiss to his temple. “Love you, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Big ups to Tini for being a general queen and specifically giving this a test read! &lt;3</p><p>As per usual—I love to hear from you. Drop me a line!</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. baby heaven’s in your eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Internet points for spotting my not-so-subtle <i>Trust</i> reference.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky has a missed call when he finishes Monday’s class. He sees the Chicago area code and his heart rate begins to climb. There’s a voicemail, too, confirming what he suspected—it’s the philosophy department head, and she’s asking Nicky to call her back.</p><p>He doesn’t want to prolong his nervousness. He taps a few buttons and holds the phone up to his ear.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hello.” He clears his throat, which has suddenly gone very dry. “This is Nicky di Genova.”</p><p>“Oh, hi, Nicky,” she says, voice warm. “Thanks for getting back to me.”</p><p>“Of course.” His pulse races, but he thinks he’s pulled off an approximation of calm.</p><p>“Well, I just wanted to get you on the phone to formally offer you the professorship.”</p><p>Nicky is too shocked to speak. Say something, he thinks desperately. Make words. “That—that’s wonderful news,” he manages, and prays she doesn’t rescind the offer on the basis of his awkwardness. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You really impressed everyone. We would love to have you in the department. I’ve sent you an email outlining the entire pay and benefits package, so please take some time to review that and talk it over with your family, if you need.” </p><p>“I will,” Nicky says. “I can get back to you on Wednesday?”</p><p>“That would be great,” she tells him. “Email me with any questions you have, okay?”</p><p>“I will,” Nicky says again. “Thank you so much.” </p><p>He hangs up and his first instinct is to call Joe, but if he remembers correctly Joe will be home now anyway. If not, Nicky can cook them supper—one of Joe’s favorites, maybe Spätzle— and tell him over that. </p><p>When he arrives back at the brownstone, he opens the door to a wall of bright, vivid orange-yellow—the entire foyer is wall-to-wall sunflowers. They’re enormous, just like the ones in the field his family lived by when he was growing up. He wonders if Joe is working on a new project he’d neglected to mention. </p><p>“Joe?” he calls. He pushes his way through the sunflowers as carefully as he can. The hallway and living room are similarly swarmed with sunflowers—even the furniture is covered.</p><p>Joe stands the in the middle of the living room in the only spot that isn’t absolutely packed with flowers. His hands are clutched together in front of his chest, palms clasped around—something. Nicky can’t see it through the cage of Joe’s fingers. </p><p>“Hi, Nicky,” Joe says.</p><p>Nicky laughs as he looks around. “Joe, what—”</p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says again. His face is full of earnest seriousness, and his voice shakes a little, which only increases Nicky’s confusion. “On Friday, I told you that you’re the most important thing in the world to me. And I don’t ever want you to doubt it for a single second.”</p><p>Joe extends his hands and opens them, revealing a small black box. He lifts the lid and Nicky’s mouth drops. It’s a ring—a gold band with glittering white stones. For the second time today, Nicky is speechless. </p><p>“Nicky, will you marry me?”</p><p>They have never discussed marriage. Nicky doesn’t fully know what it would mean for them to be husbands. He doesn’t know if Joe will want a flashy ceremony in the city or a tropical elopement. He doesn’t know if he will keep his last name or change it to match Joe’s.</p><p>He realizes he doesn’t need to know any of that, because there’s one thing he is completely certain of. He steps forward and drags his gaze from the ring to meet Joe’s eyes, and suddenly the words come easily. </p><p>“Joe,” Nicky says. “You are the love of my life.” He grins. “Of course I will marry you.”</p><p>Joe beams so brightly it puts all the sunflowers to shame. He pulls Nicky in for a kiss. </p><p>Nicky wraps an arm around Joe’s waist, his hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt. He tangles the other in Joe’s curls, and they kiss until his lips hurt. </p><p>“Here,” Joe says after, and takes the ring from the box. </p><p>“Your hands are shaking,” Nicky tell him.</p><p>“You’d be shaking, too, if the most amazing man in the world just agreed to be your husband.”</p><p>Nicky holds out his hand to show Joe the way it trembles. “Yes,” he agrees, smiling.</p><p>Joe smiles back and slips the ring on Nicky’s finger.  </p><p>They kiss again, and again, and it’s like Nicky forgets anything else exists, until suddenly he remembers—</p><p>“Joe,” he says, breaking away. “I should have told you first—Loyola called. They offered me the job.”</p><p>“I knew it,” Joe breathes, and kisses him again. Nicky can feel the smile on his lips. “Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you.” </p><p>“I told them I had to discuss it with my partner. My fiancé, now.” </p><p>Joe groans. “Fuck, Nicky, say that again.” </p><p>Nicky grins. “My fiancé. My husband-to-be.” </p><p>“Fuck, I love hearing you call me that.”</p><p>“As much as ‘daddy’?”</p><p>Joe shoots him a bemused look. “Well. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”</p><p>Nicky laughs and closes the space—really only an inch, if that—between them. “Take me to bed, <em>daddy</em>,” he says against Joe’s lips.</p><p>They start stumbling their way toward the bedroom, shedding clothing as they go. Even that is filled with sunflowers, every square inch covered with the exception of their bed. Part of Nicky is tempted to ask where Joe managed to find what must be hundreds, if not thousands, of beautiful, perfect sunflowers, but he already knows the explanation will be fantastical. Joe has a way of doing these things—making fairytale dreams come true. Nicky knows it better than anyone. </p><p>They fall into bed and lay side-by-side in a wild tangle of limbs. Nicky wants to crawl inside Joe and live there. For a long time, they grind against each other without any particular urgency, until Joe licks and sucks at one of his nipples and Nicky decides it’s time to move things along.</p><p>“What do you want?” he asks Joe.</p><p>“Whatever you do.”</p><p>Nicky huffs a frustrated laugh against Joe’s collarbone. “Well, I want whatever <em>you</em> want.” </p><p>“You’re being bratty, baby.”</p><p>“Then you should punish me accordingly.”</p><p>Joe grins. “If you insist.” His expression turns thoughtful. “On your knees, chest to the bed.” </p><p>Nicky jumps to obey. He hears Joe rummaging through the nightstand, then Joe’s long fingers wrap around his wrists, guiding his hands behind his back. Joe cuffs his wrists and Nicky moans into the mattress. The vulnerability of this position never fails to get him hard. </p><p>Joe kisses the bottom of his spine. “My baby. My fiancé.” </p><p>“Joe,” Nicky whines. </p><p>“Mm, my needy, greedy baby. When have I ever left you wanting?” Seconds later, he feels a slick finger rubbing against his hole. </p><p>“Many times,” Nicky says breathlessly. “They were all exquisite.”</p><p>Joe laughs as he adds a second finger. “Not tonight, though.” </p><p>Nicky hums, pressing back against Joe’s hand. </p><p>“Do you remember the first time we did this?” Joe asks.</p><p>“Yes.” Nicky twists his head to look over his shoulder. “I expected it to hurt.”</p><p>Joe frowns, but he keeps fucking Nicky with his fingers. “What? Being tied up?”</p><p>“No,” Nicky says. “Sex. It—ah—” he hisses as Joe brushes his prostate. “It always had before.” </p><p>“Nicky,” Joe says, voice pained.</p><p>“But you took care of me,” he continues before Joe can become too maudlin. “You made me feel so good.”</p><p>Joe makes a low noise in the back of his throat. “<em>You</em> were so good. You were so hot. Fuck.” He laughs a little. “I had no idea.”</p><p>“No idea of what?” </p><p>Joe’s fingers pump in and out of Nicky faster now. “Of how fucking filthy you are.”</p><p>Nicky smiles. “Neither did I.”</p><p>Joe laughs again and pulls his fingers out. He slaps Nicky’s ass and flops down on the bed. “You’re going to ride me, baby, and you’d better come before I do, or you might be in for some more of that exquisite wanting.” He taps the head of Nicky’s cock, both a tease and a warning. </p><p>Nicky grins. He manages to push himself off the bed and shuffles to Joe on his knees while Joe slicks up his cock. He straddles Joe and shifts until he can sink down, a task made marginally more difficult without his hands, but he’s had plenty of practice.</p><p>“Fuck,” Joe groans, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “How do you always feel so fucking good, baby?” </p><p>“I was about to ask you the same.” It’s like Joe was made to fit all of Nicky’s concave pieces. His thighs shake as he drops himself down on Joe’s cock using only his leg muscles. After several showy moves, he finds the right angle and grinds down in short, fast motions, watching Joe’s face—jaw slack, eyes reverent—until he comes all over himself. </p><p>“Good job, baby,” Joe growls. He grabs at Nicky’s bound wrists and uses his hold as leverage to slam Nicky up and down on his cock. The delicious overstimulation makes his toes curl. </p><p>“Fill me up, daddy,” Nicky begs. “I want to feel you dripping out of me—” </p><p>“Fuck, fuck.” Joe’s hips rabbit up into him, and Nicky can tell he’s close. This particular brand of dirty talk never fails to drive Joe wild. </p><p>“It feels so good when I’m full of you. Like you’ve marked me as yours. Please come in me, daddy.” </p><p>“Fuck! Nicky,” Joe moans as he comes. He pants as he catches his breath, still for a moment before he moves to unhook Nicky’s cuffs.</p><p>“Wait,” Nicky says.</p><p>Joe freezes, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to make sure it stays in me?”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, baby,” Joe says, but his hand is already moving toward their nightstand. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“We should have tried engaged sex sooner,” Nicky says after they finish their second round.</p><p>“We can only hope married sex will be as good,” Joe agrees. He pulls Nicky closer to him. </p><p>“Perhaps I really will have to get those piercings. To keep things fresh.” Nicky looks up at him, a little smile playing around the edges of his mouth and Joe’s still not entirely sure how serious he is, but they can re-visit that later.</p><p>He kisses the crown of Nicky’s head. Nicky, who is his fiancé. Who will be his husband. His left hand rests on Joe’s chest, and the sight of the glittering ring on his finger fills Joe with emotion—a little possessiveness, a smidge of triumph, but mostly, love. </p><p>Which reminds him— “I need to call my parents,” Joe says. “And Samar.”</p><p>Samar will be thrilled. Though they’ve only met in person once, she loves Nicky. His parents might be less enthused. As much as they’ve done their best to support Joe, and as much as they were charmed by Nicky, he knows a part of them will still mourn the traditional wedding ceremony he might have had if we were marrying a Muslim woman instead of a mostly-agnostic man. But despite all that, Joe knows they’ll be happy for him. </p><p>Nicky just nods against his chest, but then he tenses suddenly. “Shit.”</p><p>Joe frowns down at him. “What?” </p><p>“I—yes, you do,” Nicky agrees. “It’s only—I forgot to tell you.” He pushes his face into Joe’s chest and sighs. “I had an email from my brother, some weeks ago.”</p><p>“What?” Joe asks sharply. “Which one? What about?” Nicky always makes a point to talk about his family as little as possible, understandably, but after more than a year together, Joe has most of the story. </p><p>One night, after a few more glasses of wine than usual, Nicky told Joe about his older brothers, Mario and Emilio, who bullied him even before their mother died and even more mercilessly after. Joe thinks of himself as a pacifist, but hearing Nicky’s stories had made him want to punch something, namely Mario and Emilio. </p><p>“Emilio,” Nicky tells him. “And I don’t know. I did not read it.”</p><p>“Do you plan to?”</p><p>“I’m not sure.” He peers at Joe. “Do you think I should?”</p><p>Joe drops another kiss on Nicky’s temple while he thinks. On the one hand, there’s something deeply satisfying about the though of Nicky taking this opportunity to tell Emilio to fuck off. On the other, it might only re-open old wounds. “I don’t know, baby. But I’ll support you either way.” </p><p>Nicky huffs an exasperated laugh. “Yes, Joe, I know.” He kisses Joe right where his heart beats. “You are moving halfway across the country for me, after all. Speaking of—”</p><p>To Joe’s displeasure, Nicky gets out of bed. He eyes Nicky’s ass appreciatively as he retraces their steps into the bedroom, following the trail of clothes. Nicky’s out of sight for a moment before he comes back with his phone clutched in his hand. </p><p>“They’ve emailed me the offer,” Nicky explains as he crawls back into bed. “I thought we should look at it, before I officially accept.” </p><p>Joe smiles and nods. Nicky taps on his phone several times and holds it out so they can both see it. </p><p>“Hm,” Joe says as he scrolls through the attachment. “Family healthcare, six-year sabbatical…this is a big salary jump, Nicky.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grins. “Maybe we need to swap. I can be <em>your</em> sugar baby.” </p><p>Nicky frowns. “<em>I’m</em> baby,” he says indignantly.</p><p>After a split second of surprise, Joe laughs so hard his ribs hurt. “Nicky,” he gasps, rubbing tears from his eyes. Nicky’s laughing, too, now, snorting a little with delight at having amused Joe so much. </p><p>“It’s the students,” Nicky says. “They keep me young.”</p><p>“I love you,” Joe tells him when his laughter is under control. “And yes, just to be absolutely clear on this, I think you should officially accept.” </p><p>Nicky sucks in a breath. “Yes,” he says. “All right.” He takes Joe’s hand and brings it to his lips. “I love you, too. Shall we talk about the wedding next?”</p><p>Joe hums. “Maybe later.”</p><p>“Later?”</p><p>Joe rolls on top of Nicky, grinning. “Later.” </p><p>Nicky smiles back. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First, thanks again to the Discord homies who enabled and encouraged this. ILY.</p><p>Second, I do have a third part loosely planned. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153766">Please subscribe to the series</a> (I think that’s a thing you can do?) if you would like to get updates! It will probably be at least a month, maybe two, before I get around to it, because I have some other things I want to work on first (including a follow-up to the kidnapping AU and some other insanity). If you have things you’d like the see in the final chapter of this silly saga, porny or otherwise, let me know. I make no promises but I do love prompts.  </p><p>And lastly: Thank you to everyone for reading! I would love, love, love to hear what you thought, so leave a comment or come be horny <a href="https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/">in my asks</a>.</p>
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